


Outside Grant Park

by ChoPyrus_Writes



Series: It All Started Outside Grant Park [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Telltale Series (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Wayne is Lactose Intolerant, Canon Who Is She I Do Not Know Her, Character Study, Coffee, Crush confessions, Fluff, Friendship, Holding Hands, Humor, Indirect Kiss, Introspection, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Long Conversation, Snarky Bruce Wayne, minor criminal activity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-14 03:44:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12999141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChoPyrus_Writes/pseuds/ChoPyrus_Writes
Summary: A coffee run is a perfect opportunity to spend some time with the object of your affection. Learn a little bit about them, like how they take their coffee.The sequel to this fic is out and you cancheck it out here!!!!





	Outside Grant Park

**Author's Note:**

> ::UPDATE:: Thank you SOO much everyone who got this to 100+ kudos!! I never imagined so many people would like this! ^ ^ A companion fic is on it's way (2/3 chapters are done), so look out for that!! MWAH~!!!
> 
> ::UPDATE MORE:: THE SECOND CHAPTER OF MY THREE PARTER IS OUT!! Thank you everyone!!! Ahk! It's almost at 200 kudos!!!! Kisses for everyone! Check out the next part in the [series!!!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14228160/chapters/32804340)!
> 
> For reference, my Bruce Wayne looks like this: chocolatepyrusart.tumblr.com/post/168114199122/based-on-my-edit-of-telltales-bruce-wayne-love  
> Because in canon, he looks like a potato.

One would think that a man who specialized in hand-to-hand combat, who at a young age had become so desensitized to violence and death that he spent most of his nights fighting and apprehending criminals, would have an easier time finding the courage to start a conversation with the object of his affection.

However, John Doe was anything but ordinary for Bruce Wayne.

Bruce stood outside of John’s makeshift shack in the Pact’s base. He had spent all night and most of the morning with the group.

While staying awake for 24 hours was nothing new to Bruce, he was beginning to feel the exhaustion in the heaviness of his eye lids and the shake of his legs. But like any good vigilante, sleep was never the cure for exhaustion. Caffeine made a much better treatment.

A coffee run was a perfect opportunity to spend more time with John. Though, the chance of it being taken as more than a platonic outing between two friends who shared an unconventional, borderline obsessive relationship was incredibly slim.

“Hey, John?” Bruce walked through the door and approached his companion who sat in the corner of the shack in his stolen wheelchair.

 John’s head shot up, his eyes as wide as his smile.

“Hiya, Brucie!” He beamed in his usual raspy, eccentric voice. He leaned forward in his seat and gave Bruce his undivided attention.

Bruce diverted his eyes nervously and rubbed the back of his neck with his gloved hand.

“Hear me out, alright?” Bruce paused, he glanced back at John, the hesitation clearly excited his eager listener. “Would you…” Bruce let out a sigh. Now or never, he thought. “I’m going out for coffee? You want to come along?” It came out less cheerful than he’d preferred, but it got the point across, sort of.

John jumped up from the wheelchair, his arms flailing wildly, “I’d _love_ to, Bruce!” John sped to the door of his shack excitedly. “Where we going?”

“I was thinking Café Triste, we went there last time.”

John’s ecstatic expression was gone in a second. Instead, it was replaced with a pout and a downward look. “Oooh, I don’t think I’m welcome there anymore,” John muttered in a low voice.

Bruce stared at him and crossed his arms in a fashion reminiscent of a strict father, as John would have put it. “What did you do, Jay?”

“You remember how I said that coffee was on my dime? Well,” he hesitated, sounding something close to embarrassed. “I didn’t actually have a dime,” he said, his fingers fidgeted together nervously.

Bruce rubbed his temple, letting out an exasperated sigh, “John, you can’t just go around committing crimes, no matter how small.”

John placed his hands on his hips. “Hey! Don’t go getting on your high horse, mister fancy pants. You’re in no place to judge a pal’s criminal activity. I mean,” John let out a chuckle, “Did you forget where we are?” He gestured wildly around the room.

Bruce paused before speaking. He needed to choose his words carefully. Enabling John’s behavior was something Bruce had no intention of doing, but being the voice of reason while undercover and trying to win the approval of, to put it nicely, less than savory characters, was an act that was hard to balance.

“All I’m saying is that if you get busted for something small, like ditching a bill, you’d be a pretty big disappointment to the group,” Bruce smirked.

John bit his lip, lowering his head, “I suppose you do have a point,” he mumbled reluctantly. His face brightened instantly as his head shot up, “You’re always looking out for me, Bruce!”

Bruce uncrossed his arms and shrugged. “What are best friends for?” He said with a smirk.

John smiled fondly at him—it was obvious by his expression alone that John appreciated the verbal confirmation of their friendship. For the both of them, having a good relationship was a dying art.

John nodded his head to the door, “Want to get going?”

Bruce nodded, he started to walk out of John’s shack, “I’m picking up the bill this time.”

John let out his signature hysterical laugh, “If we run out fast enough, then neither of us has to pick up the bill! Go someplace that doesn’t have cameras, easier to get away with it!”

Bruce rolled his eyes, “I don’t think so.”

John continued to prattle on, as he followed behind Bruce.

 

 

* * *

 

They had arrived at a small coffee stall outside Grant Park. It was a smaller establishment, not a sit-down restaurant like Café Triste—something lower quality than what a man like Bruce Wayne was used to. John didn’t seem to mind, however.

The two approached the stall to order. Bruce waited for John, who was perusing the menu on the wall. “Looking at a frappe?” Bruce asked with a chuckle, thinking back to the massively over-sized frappuccino John had ordered the last time they had coffee together.

John looked to Bruce with a grin, “No, I think I’ll get what you’re getting.”

Bruce smiled at that.

Having been given their espressos, Bruce poured soy milk from a pitcher into his cup. He watched in mild horror as John dumped half of his coffee on the sidewalk, then filled the rest back up with cream.

With their coffees in hand, the two walked through the park down the gravel path. It was a cold, misty morning, normal for anyone who had grown up in Gotham, and they both had. Or at least, that’s what Bruce assumed. Whether John was a born and bred Gothamite was anyone’s guess, including the man himself.

There was so much he didn’t know about John. So much that he’d likely never know. Bruce couldn’t help but wonder about the man who had so cleverly worked his way into his head, the man who had completely taken over his thoughts, who had charmed his way into being, not only Bruce’s ally, but the closest friend he’d had in a long time.

John didn’t want the masked vigilante, the billionaire, the gangster’s son; he wanted Bruce. He wanted someone who could honestly and truly understand him. And if Bruce could admit this to himself, he wanted that too.

“How do you take your coffee, Bruce?” John asked in his low raspy voice, breaking Bruce from his thoughts, “You seem like a stoic guy.” John then pitched his tone deeper and gravelly, obviously trying to mimic a serious and angst filled speech, “ _I only take my coffee black, like my soul_!” John growled, then let out a loud and maniacal cackle.

“Very funny,” Bruce stared at John irritably.

Once John was done laughing, he, without warning, reached out and snatched Bruce’s drink from his hands. “Let me have a taste,” John took a sip from the lid, and instantly, his grin turned into a look of complete disgust, “What did you put in this?! Sweat water?!”

“Sweat water?” Bruce scoffed, “It’s soy milk.”

John cringed, handing the cup back to Bruce; he shook his head, “Not for me, buddy boy!” John grinned, “Want to try mine?” He said, shoving his drink in Bruce’s face. Bruce uncomfortably backed away from it.

“No… Thanks. I can’t drink milk.” Bruce cringed. John rolled his eyes and moved his hand away from Bruce.

“Fine, fine.” He mumbled to himself, a touch disappointed.

They reached a moss-covered fountain, its base the size of a small pond. There weren’t that many people wandering the park. A few joggers passed by, but the area was mostly empty—not surprising considering how early it was.

John jumped onto the lip of the fountain’s base, spilling some of his drink into the fountain. He crouched, picked up a rock, and flung it into the tiers of the fountain.

“What’s a guy like Bruce Wayne do for fun?” John asked out of nowhere, “Besides, y’know…” he gestured between the two with a hum.

Bruce sat down on the edge of the basin and thought for a moment. Everything he did was for work, either as a Wayne or as the Bat. Fun wasn’t exactly in Bruce’s vocabulary. He was silent.

He took a sip from his espresso.

“Not a fun kind of guy, huh,” John muttered into his drink. His face shot up. “Better question! What do you do to let off some steam?” John purred with the last few words. “I’m a watcher, Bruce. And there’s no one I watch more than you,” he smirked. “Those scars of yours, don’t think I didn’t notice them back at Arkham.”

Bruce shifted uncomfortably under John’s gaze. “And your…” John continued, his eyes wandering to Bruce’s collarbone, “shape. I mean, you’re so muscular. Like, nicely... thick.”

He reached his hand out to feel Bruce’s bicep before freezing in place. He cleared his throat nervously and looked down, avoiding Bruce’s gaze while moving his hand away.

This was definitely something that caught Bruce off guard. John’s little observation nearly made Bruce forget what the original question even was. But then he remembered: what does Bruce Wayne do to let off steam? He needed an excuse, a lie.

It never felt right lying to John. Every time he dodged the question or withheld the answer, it always made Bruce feel terrible. John was so genuine, yet Bruce couldn’t even tell him about his hobbies.

Though, there wasn’t anything he could do to avoid lying to him in some way. John was an inquisitive person. He liked to talk to people, to understand them, though it was probably to make manipulation easier, Bruce figured. So, trying to keep quiet about himself wasn’t easy with John.

He needed a diversion, a distraction, a joke.

“Underground wrestling arenas,” Bruce deadpanned.

John grinned, “Oh,” he said through heavy breaths, “You don’t know how much I wish that were true!” John turned to look out into the park, he waved his hands with excitement, “I can imagine it perfectly! You, squeezing the air out of them, choking them until they’re blue! Breaking their bones! Snapping their pathetic arms in half! Miserable little thrill seekers who never knew what hit them!” John cackled, throwing his head back.

And there it was: that side of John not so subtly hidden. He had seen this before, when they had first met. In Arkham, John was unhinged, hysterical. Though, it was so long ago that John seemed different, better even. These outbursts were few and far between, but when they happened, it was a painful reminder of what was going on in John’s head, of who John could be, if he wasn’t that already.

Bruce had lost too many friends in the past, not to death, but to themselves.

Realizing the sour look Bruce held, John quit laughing, “What’s wrong, pal?” He asked, sounding genuinely concerned, “You look distracted.”

“I’m just… thinking.” Bruce looked away from John, staring at the water splashing from the fountain. “About you.”

“What a coincidence! I’m always thinking about you,” he giggled. Bruce turned back to look at John.

“John, if you ever need help with something, whatever is going on, you can come to me.” John looked actually surprised, his usual smile was gone. This reaction made Bruce realize how out of nowhere this confession was, but it was too late now. There was no taking back what he said, even if Bruce wanted to. “I’ll never turn you away, I’ll always listen. I’m here for you, John.” Bruce’s eyes were soft as the words poured out of him.

John stared at Bruce for a few seconds, before he looked down at his hand, his brow furrowed. What Bruce said still hadn’t completely registered in John’s head. But then, it clicked. He looked back up with a smile.

John placed his free hand on top of Bruce’s and gave his fingers a gentle squeeze. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Bruce smiled, “What are friends for?”

John’s eyes fell to their hands.

He ran his thumb over Bruce’s knuckles, his own skin seeming even paler against Bruce’s hand. Bruce could feel the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. John’s hand was rough and dry, his calloused skin rubbed against Bruce’s bruised knuckles.

Bruce briefly wondered how John could be so content, holding his sweaty hand like this.

John bit his lip through his grin. He ran his free hand through his hair and pushed the stray green strands out of his face. “Wow,” John mumbled to himself in disbelief. He looked away from Bruce, unable to stop himself from grinning. The fact that Bruce was actually letting John hold his hand was too much for John to believe.

Bruce watched John for a few seconds. His entire face, from his cheeks to his ears, was a light pink.

“John?” Bruce asked, his tone less sweet than before. Bruce pulled his hand out from John’s. John turned to look at him. “You and Harley…?”

John cringed. He let his head fall and he clasped his hands together, letting out a sigh, “It’s complicated, Bruce.”

If Bruce didn’t care about being rude, he would have rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“She’s just,” John groaned, “So amazing! She’s my girl-buddy!” John flashed a toothy grin.

“Girl-buddy?” Bruce crossed his arms.

“But you,” he scoffed, “You’re Bruce! You’re special! You’re the guy I’d risk my life for, the guy who’s never rejected me! It’s…” John’s face fell, “It’s hard being alone, Bruce.”

Bruce always forgot how similar the two were. Everything he felt, John understood.

“It’s even harder to make friends,” John smiled, “But remember what I said! You can’t force this kind of friendship!” John beamed.

Bruce smiled fondly at John, who in turn took Bruce’s hand once more.

This time, Bruce turned his hand over and intertwined his fingers with John’s.

Where would their relationship go – Bruce couldn’t help but dwell on this. He didn’t know where they would end up after everything was over. John already struggled to prove himself to the Pact, and Bruce… Bruce had so many secrets he had lost count. He felt manipulative, like he was always lying to John.

But no matter how many times Bruce tried to tell himself different, he was lonely.

“I can’t stop thinking about this,” John interrupted his thoughts, “About how this will go.” John glanced at their intertwined hands.

Bruce was surprised at first, but it quickly passed. It became suddenly real to him that they were the same. Bruce wouldn’t have to worry about this alone anymore. John would be there for him. No matter what might happen, they would always have that connection.

“Let’s see where this goes, we’ll figure it out,” Bruce said with a smirk.

John grinned, “Tomorrow, I know just the place! There’s an ice cream bar with your name on it! And then, the day after that, maybe the Waterfront!” John giggled.

Bruce squeezed their hands tighter, “Okay, Jay. I’ll look forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to support what I do, you can maybe buy me a coffee! https://ko-fi.com/ChoPyArt  
> Or become a patron and get exclusive content! https://www.patreon.com/ChoPyArt
> 
>  Check out my Tumblr here!! https://chocolatepyrusart.tumblr.com
> 
> This first fic I've written in a long time. I've been obsessed with Telltale's Batman for a while now, and I've been in love with, a certain, John Doe. I had to get something out.
> 
>  
> 
> Because, remember kids, listen to a vigilante: sleep is never the cure for exhaustion. Caffeine is a much better treatment. ;]
> 
>  
> 
> Bruce Wayne's not gonna' be the OTHER WOMAN, John~!


End file.
